I'm Done
by EmoMyusicFox
Summary: Belarus has tried to get her brother to love her, but she's failed every time. Finally, she gives up, after years and years, to leave Russia alone. She leaves with only her things and a goodbye and heads off to the airport on the next flight anywhere. Only to get away from her memories and failures. (America X Belarus AmeBel USA and small RusCan. I don't own Hetalia or the picture)
1. Chapter 1

**(A/N: This is the first fanfic I've done that's not RusCan... I think that this pairing is really cute and it needs to have more attention; I mean, look at it! And sorry that I've been neglecting my duties on Cold Countries and All Together, I've just been lazy and have writer's block /mauled by wild bears/. ;-; So sorry. But I want to say thank you for all your support, guys. I couldn't do this without you... No, seriously. Not joking. I wouldn't have a speck of motivation. So thank you. Enjoy the short chapter :3))**

****_Bam! _Russia jumps up from his spot on the couch next to Canada. They're watching a movie, all cozy and eating pancakes, then Belarus comes over unexpectedly. Russia's eyes widen in fear at hearing the door slam open and his little sister sneak through it, knives at ready.

"Big brudder, I know you're in here... And I know of that _Canadian boy taking my place!_" She shrieks as she darts into a closet nearby, hiding her appearance for now.

"Hide, Matvey. You don't want her to see you." Russia whispers to his boyfriend. Canada nods quickly before rushing to the nearest hiding place - The wine cellar. The door opens and shuts quietly, barely a sound escapes. The pitter-patter of his feet and Russia's breath are the only sounds in the house.

"I know someone else is here, Ivan... It's that boy, huh?" Belarus questions from her hiding place. Inside the closet she can see piles upon piles of pictures in a box. She picks one up in the darkness and with her small pocket flashlight she shines light onto it to see the memory. This one was of when everyone was still young, and people kept picking on the three of them, especially Russia. Everyone's holding hands and smiling the brightest smiles, even though the times were hard. Soon their economy's picked up and everything was fine. That's is, until the Cold War. Her brother never had enough time for Belarus. He always said he wanted a "family", but he has one! According to him, though, it wasn't enough. Never enough. Never Enough.

Never enough.

A tear slides down Belarus' cheek silently in the dark. _"He won't ever love me, will he?"_

__She composes herself and calmly steps out of the closet, and slides her knife into it's holster, not showing an emotion. One foot after another, she takes slow steps down the hallway and into the living room, where he brother is standing in fear.

"Why won't you love me? I have done nothing but try to please you in my life."

His body tenses slightly. "Belarus, I'm sorry, but you're my sister. Nothing more."

She stares daggers at her brother. "It's because of that boy. Fine. I don't care." She manages to choke out almost inaudibly. Another tear, like before, slips down her face and she looks down at the ground.

In the wine cellar, Canada hears everything. He can't believe that _Belarus, _out of everyone, is crying. Well, that's what he hears, anyway. A feeling in his heart wants him to comfort her, but his brain says no, knowing that she'll probably kill him if he tries to even get within five feet of her.

"I don't care if you love that boy, brudder. I don't care if you run off with him to get married. I don't care if you hate me. Just never. Speak. To. Me. Again. I am done." She sniffles slightly, and another tear escapes her eye. She lifts her head, eyes staring deeply into her brother's, and stomps to the door of her room.

Belarus looks around her room. Without a word, she pulls out the drawers of her dresser and takes all of her clothes, setting them in a dark blue suitcase. She picks up a framed picture of when they were in the Soviet Union, the Baltics in the picture slightly nervous looking but smiling, in front of her tall brother. Ukraine stands to her brother's right and she stands to his left, Belarus' hands holding each other and her eyes projecting a cold expression. She slides the picture out of the frame, and folds over a corner to cover her body.

_"Now Brother can live in peace without me. He doesn't even have to remember I existed." _

__Placing the photo back into it's wooden frame, puts it down, touching it for the last time. A pitcher of sunflowers sits next to it, and an extra white hair ribbon in front, like a magazine picture.

Belarus peers around the room a second time and notices a safe in the corner, masking tape labeling it with her name. She peels off the tape and unlocks the safe. Her life savings and a photo album are the only things in there. Around 35,000 rubles in a thick leather wallet are moved into the luggage case as well. She leaves the photo album in the safe and locks it, drops the key in the safe, the shuts the lid.

Her only other pair of shoes are dark blue snow boots, and those are packed as well. A small mirror is the last possession of her own in the place.

Purple-blue eyes stare back and she studies herself. Her eyes have a ring of red around them from crying, but it's fading away.

_"I'm disgusting. If brother can't love me, who will? Ugly. Disgusting. Small. Weak." _She chants in her mind, throwing insults at herself over and over again, until she finally busts the mirror in her hand and throws away the smashed remains.

Her hand grips the handle of her suitcase and she heads out of the room with no evidence of her existence left, not looking back.

As she passes through the living room to the door, she sees no sight of Canada still. Only Russia is in the living room, silently grazing his eyes over his sister. He looks sad, but she doesn't care. No.

"Goodbye, brudder. For the last time."


	2. Chapter 2

Belarus stepped out of the door, not bothering to look back at her brother, who was probably worrying about her right now. Like she cared.

Right now, all she wanted to care about was where she was going next.

And, she didn't know. At all.

_"A plane, maybe?"_

~ The Next Day During the G8 Meeting ~

"EVERYONE SHUT UP! Now, let England speak, ja?!" A certain angry German demands.

Russia still can't focus. What will happen to his baby sister? Well, she isn't a baby so much anymore, but he still worries... That's what big brothers do. She never has left his side until now. It was a little creepy, but... She loved him. Even if it was a bit extreme. She's one of the few who do. He hope's she's safe, at least. He has faith she won't get lost.

He didn't notice he was spacing out until he heard a certain annoying voice snap him out of it.

"Yo! Commie! What're you doing?! Focus, man! You h-" Only one person could talk like that - That American _Pig. _

Of course, that remark pissed the Russian off. He was thinking of the _well-being of his sister. _

"America, I was just thinking. No need to explain, da? Your way if saying "spacing out". Leave me alone." He replies coldly.

"You cut me off! You _cut _me _off!_ The hero _never_gets cut off!" America replies childishly.

England butts in, along with an interested France. "Oi, what happened? You actually seem... Depressed..." That freaked a few people out.

"Come on and tell papa France..." For once, in front of others, France looks _fatherly. _It's not new, just something other people don't see often.

Russia mumbles an explanation.

"Come again?"

"I said, my sestra left. Not at my house. Packed her stuff and left. Happy, you annoying shits?" Russia glared daggers at the other nations.

Confused looks fill their expressions. "W-Why are you upset?"

"She still is my sister. Natalia may be a little... Protective... But she was still family." A frown crosses his face at the last note.

"So she left...? Just, didnt even have direction?" America concluded.

He nods, but looks off to the side.

"I'll find her! The hero needs to save people, right?" He grins.

Horrified faces turn his way.

"You can't be serious! She'll kill you! Bloody hell, I didn't know you were suicidal!"

But, America didnt hear, because he was already out the door.

_She needs me right now! No matter who it is, the hero needs to save them!_

His feet pound on the hall's floorboards, him speeding as fast as he can to get to his hotel.

When he get's outside, he hails a taxi, and finally gets one headed to where he's staying in the city of Berlin.

**((Yes, America can speak German. Actually, he can speak most of the languages of the nations. Don't underestimate him.))**

He pulls up the the curb, America immediately jumps out of the car and runs through the doors, getting his key card out of his wallet while he does so.

Finally, _finally, _even after the slowest elevator in history let him off on his floor, he got his stuff and set off to find Belarus.

_Wallet, check; phone-here it is, check; suitcase, check; game consoles, check. All set. _

With his suitcase trailing behind, he makes his way down stairs, not caring about the noise or the work. He's not going on that impossible elevator again.

After traveling down four flights of stairs, taking a taxi to the airport, and making it through the crowd, he stops at a long list of incoming and exporting flights.

_Flight to Paris departing at 12:00pm, flight from Detriot arriving at 2:30am, flight from Moscow arriving at 12:00pm...!_

"Belarus..." He whispered to himself wistfully.

As if on que, the gate (B-2, FYI), was opened and out comes a line of people, probably first class.

He scans the crowd for a sign of long blonde hair, some blue-purple eyes, or even the blue and white dress like her's.

Nothing yet.

Another bunch leaves, this time slightly more practical. He maneuvers through them, looking for the same things as before. He grabs a shoulder lightly to get that person to move out of the way to get a better view, but as he does, his hand's smacked away harshly. Then the-girl I might add-runs off.

When he looks back at her, America notices who, and dashes at her to catch up.

"Bela-Natalya! _Natalya!_" He called, but she only ran faster.

Still running through the terminal, they begin to slow down after their stamina runs low, their steps getting sloppier. Belarus is holding her dress up from the floor, careful to try and not step on it.

Her foot lands wrong, and she winces, then the other steps on the hem of her navy blue dress, and she flies forward, bracing for impact. But the pain never came.

"Are you alright?" America asked her cautiously, his arm still holding the forearm that was keeping her up and from running.

She gives him a cold stare. "I am _not _going back. Never. Bruder will not love me, and I have to accept that. He has found someone else and that is just the way it is."

Belarus shakes off the hand on her arm, and turns away.

"I am as far as I can from him, I will not have contact with him, and only talk to him within business." She struts off to leave, but he holds her back again.

He looks serious. "Do you really think you'll be okay here? You have no American money, and exchange booths are closed. No hotels are vacant here, I mean, come on. It's midnight. And I'm _not _going to let you be homeless till you can get one. No food, either. You're staying at my house until you do."

Still holding her arm, he drags her behind while she struggles to release his iron grip.

"There is _no need to PLAY HERO! I'm fine on my own!_" She screeches after him, her words like arrows through him. "_I speak english! _I can handle myself! _I'M NOT A CHILD!"_

That hit him hard. His steps halter, and he lets his arm go limp. "Fine. Go be alone and with your own devices. But you're welcome at my house, Belarus." He says calmly, not even looking at her, but anger shows through his voice. He leaves in a taxi. A clap of thunder is heard, then rain pours from the clouds.

She walks slowly to a nearby bench and sits down, slouching a little, her body only being spared from the rain now by the awning, but she's still soaking from the earlier downpour.

_Why must I be so repulsive? Everyone hates me or wants me dead. I shouldn't even be here. I should've gone to my own country and gone into splendid isolation like others have done. _

Before she knows it, she's laying on the cold metal bench, sobbing miserably. But those tears aren't emotional-Her heart's empty. She's hungry, cold, soaking wet and the only place to head to is that _bastard America's_home. Her stomach growls, and her tears dry up.

_I need to find shelter... It's not like I know which hotels are open, or really how to book one. My boss always did it for me. _

She gets off her bench, and searches around for a small shelter in the heavy rain. After a while, an alley between two acute buildings is found, and she drags her things with her to it. She leans against the brick wall, but her legs give out and she ends up in an upright fetal position, sitting in the mud.

"This looks familiar..." She gripes.

Silence is the only thing besides the pitter-patter of rain. Belarus feels so... Empty. Like nothing's left. No emotions, tears, or misery remain. This feeling's worse than sadness to her. Nothing to strive for, to try, to achieve. Just emptiness.

She sits there against the wall, knees up in front of her, and she crosses her arms and leans her head on them. Emotionless eyes are broken, like her heart. Her lids grow heavy and she begins to sleep.

In her state she doesn't notice an oncoming man turn her way.

"Natalya? Are... You sure you don't want to come over...? I have food, not just hamburgers, if you'd like, and a bed instead of the ground..."

He gets closer to her sleeping form worriedly and caresses her long hair for a little. "Hey... Belarus? Are you awake?"

America inspects a little more and sees that she's sleeping, probably tuckered out from today. So, as any hero would do, he picks her up, her body in one arm and his hand tugging her luggage in the other, then begins the walk back to his place (luckily it wasn't far).

At first he was just going to grab a cup of froyo, because only real men eat that, but he was going by and he saw her in the alley. Of course she wouldn't be able to find a hotel on her own, considering her oh-so-great social skills. He sighs.

_Why must she be so stubborn?_

Belarus' peaceful sleeping face is so different from her normal cold expression that she shows everyone. It's pretty cute, really. Wait, what?

America shifts his arm a little to adjust the Belarusian, who feels _really _uncomfomfortable in his arm that's not holding her things. In her sleep, she moves, then hugs his arm with a content look. At that, his cheeks redden.

Her grip gets tighter, but still weak as Natalya's sleeping form clutches the leather of his old bomber jacket.

After long, they arrive at Alfred's place, and he has to let go of the suitcase to open the door, sets her down on the bed in the guest room, then pulls the dark blue luggage into the house and places it by her bedside.

Belarus still in dreamland, he makes his way to his room and jumps on the bed, tired-no, purely _exhausted _because of today. He strips down to his boxers and snatches a pair of sleeping pants to wear in case of a certain someone waking up and seeing.

_She's confusing. But the hero has saved her! She said she wasn't going back to Russia... Does she mean forever? Should I tell that commie? Nah, I'll let _her _do the family things. I don't want to get involved. _

And like any hero would do, he goes to sleep.


End file.
